


Valentine's Day

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman - Fandom
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), St James's Park (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, crowley can't stop falling asleep lmao, dancing to queen, picnic au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have a picnic together, and end it with a fluffy evening.(Valentine's Day)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Aziraphale
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Valentine's Day

The drenching sun of golden hour soaked Aziraphale and Crowley as they picnicked in St James’ Park. The wittering of birds created a soundtrack for their adoration, and the autumnal leaves fell around them.  It was the 14th of February, 2020; it had been some 24 years since armageddon was prevented, and since then they had been celebrating every year of their living.  It had been ten years since they started dating, and they had married fairly recently.

Today, is their six year anniversary.

Aziraphale poured out the raspberry lemonade into two crystal glasses.  The light from the sun was catching the threads of Crowley’s shoulder-length hair, making it rust-and-whiskey coloured, and his eyes were shimmering golden. Aziraphale had somehow convinced him to not wear sunglasses.  The ducks were bobbing on the lake, quite contented by small families feeding them, relaxing in the clear, cold water.  Crowley bit into a jam sandwich.

‘Would you like some, dear boy?’ Aziraphale asked Crowley, handing him the glass before he could answer. Crowley drained the sweet liquid and finished his sandwich, then began picking from the small patch of daisies and threading them together.

‘What are you doing, my love?’ The blond one asked, giving Crowley a look of endearment.

‘Nothing,’ Crowley sighed, before admiring his creation. He placed it upon his boyfriend’s head. ‘But it’s for you, angel.’

‘A daisy crown!’ The angel laughed, and kissed the tip of the demon’s nose, making him melt in a puddle of fondness.

‘It means innocence and purity,’ Crowley said, then winked at Aziraphale. He received a look of disapproval, followed by a blushy laugh.

He poured the last of the pink lemonade from the bottle and handed the glass to Crowley.

Then, he selected some yellow and purple flowers from the ground, delicately laying them next to him. Aziraphale practically pulled his boyfriend onto his lap, then began braiding the flowers into his hair. Crowley protested at first, batting his hands away, but eventually settled down. He liked the feeling of fingers running through his hair, blossom being tucked into the crevices of the french plaits.

And there they were there, Aziraphale being a huge pillow for Crowley’s skeletal frame.

They sat,  _ being  _ together, until the birdsong died down and  _ la lune _ began to show her face made of ivory and rose-leaves.

Aziraphale gently slid the napkins under Crowley’s head to act like a pillow for his stirring body, and began to pack up the picnic. Crowley looked so peaceful, his hair spread like a blanket around his tranquil face. His eyelids flit now and again, but he never arose, and just continued to lay in the inky pool of sleep.

When it was all packed up, Aziraphale put the basked over one of his shoulders, then bridal-style lifted Crowley from the grass. Crowley woke up, slightly alarmed at first to be off the ground, but when he realised where he was, he smiled. Aziraphale kissed him gently on the lips, making the demon turn a crimson colour, and cover his face. The angel saw the small smile he was hiding.

‘An- Angel?’ He asked, ‘What’s the time?’

‘Seven o’ clock, my dear.’ Aziraphale answered him, brushing a few loose strands of his hair out his face.

When they finally reached the kerb, the angel put the red-head down, but firmly took his hand, like he was stabilising him, afraid to let go. Aziraphale hailed a taxi, and practically dumped the demon into the backseat. He asked to be taken to A. Z. Fell & Co’s Bookshop, and sat back in the seat, Crowley’s head on his lap. They stared into each-other’s eyes the whole way home, a smile lacing Crowley’s lips. Queen’s ‘Love Of My Life’ played softly from the car radio.

Aziraphale dug the record out from under a pile of Bach, Beethoven and Tchaikovsky, and placed it on the spinning table of the gramophone. Crowley’s face was peeking out of a bundle of blankets, his breathing soft and even.

Queen hummed once again, ‘Somebody to Love’ chorusing throughout the Bookshop.  The happy couple waltzed around the room, until the slow part of the song began to ring out. Crowley put his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and they stepped to the beat.

After a fruitful evening of dancing, drinking and kissing, Aziraphale found himself laying next to a once again sleeping Crowley.

The winter’s light streamed in through the window, blowing the curtains in the wind. Specks flew in, and the immaculate wooden floorboards were slightly damp.

Snow.

Crowley’s thin nightclothes didn’t provide any warmth. His form was shivering gently in his dreams, and Aziraphale quickly recognised this. He threw many blankets over him, and set about making tea and breakfast for his husband.

The demon’s eyes opened, bleary through the mist of morning. He saw next to him, on the bedside table, was a vase, and in it, the flowers that were threaded through his hair the day before, decorated with daisies, presumably from his angel’s crown. He smiled, thinking of the previous day.

The morn was met with many soft kisses and relentless cuddles.

**Author's Note:**

> Courtesy of the absolutely dead groupchat, 'theoretically a good omens groupchat!' I love you all even if i have lost touch <3


End file.
